


Tether to Sanity

by Renai_chan



Series: Lifeline [1]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: A surprising amount of feels, Bondage, Chester is NOT evil, Dom/sub Undertones, Eggsy is the fandom bicycle, Established Hartwin, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Lingerie Kink, M/M, Pegging, Possessive Harry, S&M Undertones, Sharing Kink, Spoiled Eggsy, Strap-Ons, a lot of kinks are implied and explored, because there is a lot of (consensual) Chester/Eggsy, sex as stress relief, this is very important
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 13:53:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5668411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renai_chan/pseuds/Renai_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before he becomes a Kingsman, Eggsy is found by Harry working Smith Street. He falls in love with him, takes him in, gives him a home in Kingsman, and gives him a purpose: to help the knights manage their psyches through sex.</p><p>The story starts just before the movie events and ends just afterwards.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tether to Sanity

**Author's Note:**

> Ooookay, so this fic... Well, it started because I basically wanted to get Eggsy gangbanged. Somewhere along the line, plot and feels happened (not a lot, mind you, but a surprising amount anyway) and the gangbanging part never materialized (I think Kingsman has a natural tendency to make everything classier, including my usually classless writing).
> 
> Not yet beta'd, and while the first half of the fic has been written and rewritten quite a few times, the bottom half is practically a first draft, so ignore the cringe-y bits. Revisions are ongoing.
> 
> Again, I feel the need to reiterate that **Chester King is not evil in my fic**. Classist, yes, but he redeems himself early in the fic because I have strange kinks and I wanted to explore a more extreme age kink in my writing. Try to imagine Michael Caine as Alfred Pennyworth (or other 'good' characters) rather than Chester King, if that helps (it helped in my writing).

Back in nineteen fifty three, when Kingsman had finally escaped the steep climb of the learning curve that plagued any new organization in whichever industry they operated in and plateaued at the beginning of its golden era, a singular incident involving a duck, a shoe phone, a mixing bowl, and the quiet footfalls of an agent made even quieter by the second-story carpeting threatened to rock the very foundations of Kingsman and destroy all progress they had gained in their so-far brief but glorious history. It was found to have started among the field agents’ ranks, specifically the then Lancelot, Lamorak, and Caradoc, though it had not been decided who exactly was at fault and whether it had truly been an accident or a master plan of epic proportions.

Nevertheless, after thorough deliberation and consideration and hours of meetings, the round table had decided that to prevent further incidences of the same fortune--or _mis_ fortune so to speak--it would be in everyone’s best intentions to replace the pond’s ducks with the more elegant, albeit more tempestuous, swans and to do away with the carpeting along the entirety of the second story--no matter that it was a centuries-old, nearly priceless relic. The agents had unanimously agreed that it was to no one’s benefit that any of them be caught by surprise.

When Harry had joined Kingsman in nineteen eighty three, he had thought nothing of it. He hadn’t yet been acquainted with the droll tale then, but even afterwards, it meant little to him beyond the short chuckle when the story came to mind. Over his illustrious three-decade career, however, he had come to agree with such decision, no matter how ridiculous the circumstances that had lead to it, because it always gave him good forewarning to avoid persons he needed to avoid and find persons that needed to be found, and once or twice kept him from accidentally planting a bullet between the eyes of unexpected visiting agents. He’d learned to recognize the patterns of footfalls that the people who frequented the second story made, and though it was a mostly useless skill outside of the organization, Harry particularly enjoyed its applications.

So when he heard the characteristic rapid fire taps of polished Oxfords against the wooden herringbone floors, he knew before he turned that he’d find Percival around the corner. Quite disappointing, to be perfectly honest, because Percival wasn’t the person he was intent on finding then and there. Fortunate, though, because Percival was the one person in Kingsman besides Merlin (who had the advantage of twenty four-seven surveillance over _everybody_ , so he didn’t count) that had information on anyone about anything.

“Alastair,” he greeted milliseconds after he’d rounded the corner. Percival looked up from the tablet he held in his hands at Harry’s appearance, looking entirely nonplussed despite the suddenness of their encounter. It wasn’t just Harry, after all, who was meant to benefit from the stripped floors. “Would you, by any chance, have an idea of where I could find Eggsy?”

Percival’s gait slowed to accommodate their chat, and Harry mimicked his speed. “Exactly where you’d expect to find him and presumably where you’re headed now,” was the almost absent response. Harry nodded a thanks and resumed his faster pace for a step or two before Percival quickly added as they had just passed each other, “Bors is with him, just so you know.” To that, Harry stopped completely and turned to face Percival fully.

“Bors?” he inquired, somewhat befuddled. “What business does Bors have with him? He just came off of a successful mission. In fact, I was just with Merlin who was raving that something _must_ have gone wrong somewhere because there was no way Bors’s mission could have gone _exactly_ according to plan.”

Percival rolled his eyes. “I swear, that man. If I were Arthur, I’d send him back to train with Merlin for unwittingly sabotaging all the team’s careful preparations in favor of succeeding on accident. If I were his handler, I’d probably slit his throat in his sleep.” And to be honest, Harry couldn’t agree more. With a shake of his head, Percival then answered Harry’s question. “At this point, I’d wager it’s more to do with force of habit than any true need for how often he comes home and finds your boy.”

Harry lifted his brows but ultimately shrugged because there was not much more to be said. He gave the other man a “Thank you, Alastair” and a nod and went on his way to Eggsy’s quarters at the very end of the east wing. 

It took up the entire northeast corner of the manor, the largest of all available quarters--formerly Arthur’s before being gifted to Eggsy. The hexagonal shape opened up a nearly three-sixty degree view of the estate and allowed excellent lighting and air circulation in addition to an excellent view whenever the fickle English weather permitted.

As expected, it was unlocked--it always was--and Harry entered without the need for the pretense of knocking.

The day was unusually bright and airy, so all the windows were thrown open to take advantage of it, making the soft white drapes flutter in the gentle breeze. The afternoon light filtered in to highlight the immense bed in the middle of the room. And there, among the plush pillows and cloud-like duvet, was his Eggsy, kneeling on all fours, naked as the day he was born, with Bors pounding into him from behind.

Harry stopped to appreciate the view. His boy was flushed from head to chest and once more along the length of his bobbing, fat cock. His back was arched to angle his arse up, and his hips stuttered to meet Bors’s thrusts even in the midst of what should be debilitating pleasure. Sweat glittered at his browline, drawing attention to his fluttering eyelashes and parted lips. As always, he looked utterly ravishing.

“Hart,” Bors greeted in an even and pleasant tone though his thrusts didn’t falter into the whining boy before him. His hands, Harry noted as he started towards the pair on the bed, were gripping tight into Eggsy’s hips, pressing marks into them that Harry knew he’d later lavish attention with his tongue once Bors had taken his fill.

“Enjoying ourselves, are we, Stephen?” Harry asked, mostly to weasel details of this unnecessary little escapade out of him. He reached out and pinched Eggsy’s chin between his thumb and forefinger to tip up the boy’s face. His eyes were glassy and unfocused with want, a beautiful look on him, Harry noted when he pressed to the parted lips a chaste kiss that Eggsy barely acknowledged at the moment but afterwards tried to chase after.

While he did, Bors answered with an amused curl to his lips, “You know I am.” The little moans of protest and pleasure out of Eggsy went unacknowledged between them.

“I had an enlightening chat with Merlin and much thought congratulations on a job well done were in order,” Harry continued while casually strolling away from them and towards the sitting area across the bed. He shed his coat and tie neatly as he went and helped himself to a healthy measure of quality scotch from the wet bar before seating himself in the sofa that would offer him optimum view of the show.

“And such congratulations are very much appreciated,” Bors answered, his grin widening. “As is this little token of reward here.” He punctuated with a sharp thrust that had Eggsy gasping loudly.

Harry hummed in thought. “And here I thought Eggsy mostly offered relief from the pressures of our missions. I wasn’t made aware that Arthur had integrated him into our compensation system.” 

“Oi. Just ‘cuz Stephen’s poundin’ the life from me and you’s talkin’ all posh-like don’t mean I don’t hear yous talkin’ ‘bout me like I’m a toy,” Eggsy suddenly managed to grit out. That he was able to manage speech was poor form on Bors’s part, and he seemed to realize it too because he wrapped one hand around Eggsy’s cock and stroked him firmly, saying, “Shush, darling. Harry and I are talking.” Easily enough, any other words from the boy turned into unintelligible moans. “Good boy,” Bors added with a press of his mouth to the back of Eggsy’s neck.

To Harry, Bors answered, “I was made to believe that it’s Eggsy who decides what services he would and wouldn’t like to offer, and in that regard, he hadn’t denied my request.”

“Ah, but that’s where you’re mistaken, my friend. It’s not Eggsy who gets to make such decisions.” Harry grinned wickedly. “I do.” Bors grinned back, but conceded point with a nod, so Harry allowed gallantly, “But because unusually excellent performances _should_ be rewarded as I know Merlin and Arthur would have failed to do so, I’ll permit you to take your fill.”

Bors laughed a boisterous thing. “A generous man, you are!” he exclaimed. Harry tipped his glass to him to accept the ill-meant compliment anyway. “And shall I be allowed the honor of giving your boy release as well?”

Harry winked. “Well, we mustn’t be greedy.” Eggsy whined.

“Not fair,” he said, still writhing in Bors’s grasp. “Harry, _please_.”

“As lovely as it is to hear you beg, my darling, you shall hold yourself back,” Bors admonished with a gentle pat to his hip before he grasped it tightly once more and then suddenly ploughed into him with fierce speed. 

Eggsy _wailed_ , tossing his head back and pushing his arse back into the brutal thrust of the agent’s cock. The sounds of sex filled the air where conversation had previously been. Each moment was filled with Eggsy’s sobs and whines and pleads for more, for less, for anything, and Bors’s grunts of effort and pleasure. The boy buried his face into his forearms on the bed while Bors sought to turn him inside out, delighting in his wracking frame and endeavouring to break him down completely.

Harry sipped at his scotch, pleased at the sight, patient despite the near-painful throbbing between his legs while he awaited his chance to do the same to his little love. He could imagine it now, clear as a memory not five minutes passed, the way Eggsy’s reddened hole, leaking and loose from Bors’s cock, would engulf Harry’s own greedily like a starving man, how Harry would fuck the come in it out and replace it with his own, how Eggsy would quake under his touch and beg for Harry to _use_ him.

Then Bors gave a single hoarse grunt and a final thrust before he stilled and his grip tightened further. Eggsy’s flesh dimpled under his grip, turning white beneath Bors’s fingertips. He bit his lower lip and rocked back minutely against the agent. His thighs flexed once and Bors immediately thereafter moaned, affirming Harry’s conclusion that Eggsy tightened his channel around the coming cock.

“Mmm… _lovely_ ,” Bors finally said, which was cue for Harry to stand and approach them. His voice carried a lilt of satisfaction, and to reward Eggsy for having provided it, tugged his head back and shared a deep kiss with him over his shoulder. “Thank you, darling,” he added before gingerly tugging himself out. He took a second to appreciate the loosened, moist hole of his temporary lover--and so did Harry because it was a truly lovely sight to behold--and tucked himself back in as he stood.

Without word, Harry slid into the space Bors vacated and squeezed each of the cheeks of his lover’s arse to spread them apart and bare him further to Harry’s avaricious gaze. Eggsy moaned in a poor attempt at pleading and tilted said arse up further.

A single drop of pearly white come had already slipped out and trailed down his balls, but another was soon forthcoming, so Harry caught it with his thumb and pushed it back into the hole from whence it came. Another moan was his reward for that, and a pleading, “Come _on_ , Harry. You know you want ter.” And Harry did. He did want to fuck his sloppy, used little hole until it _gaped_ for him.

Before he could, though, Bors came back into the room from the adjoining ensuite where he had retired to and reached for Eggsy’s face. He tilted it up as Harry had done, but instead of his lips, he pressed a fond kiss to Eggsy’s forehead. “You were, as always, my dear, an absolute pleasure,” he said, and then gave Harry a grin and a nod and was out the door without a second glance.

“Having fun with Bors, were you, poppet?” Harry asked when the door had shut. Not that he needed Eggsy’s verbal affirmation in any capacity--he had very well seen for himself how his little trollop enjoyed Bors’s attentions. However, small talk was apparently so deeply ingrained into him that not even familiarity and sex could suppress it. He bent forwards and grazed his lips over the smooth curve of Eggsy’s arsecheek, tasting salt on it and scenting the musk of come. 

Eggsy made a small noise of appreciation and shifted as if spreading his legs would get Harry to fuck him faster. No, Harry wanted to take his time and enjoy him like this: debauched, thoroughly fucked, and _gagging_ for release. It was why he allowed the knights to take their fill of his boy in whatever manner they desired to do so: so that he could thoroughly enjoy the spoils of it afterwards when Eggsy was tired and aching and very much broken down into the fundamentals of human existence.

That and because Eggsy was an insatiable, _spoiled_ little nympho who _loved_ all the attention on him that Harry would have, admittedly, been hard pressed to provide all on his lonesome.

Not for the first time, it came to mind that such predilections in his little love had been the after effects of a traumatic childhood: losing his father at a young age, gaining a disgusting excuse for a human being as a stepfather, the physical and mental abuse he’d had to endure as a result of such and, after losing his mother and would-have-been sister to complications in childbirth, sexual abuse and the prostitution he was forced into as his stepfather’s ‘solution’ to the financial difficulty of feeding and clothing him. 

It was at the latter that Harry had found him. He’d just come off a bad mission--not yet showered or debriefed or even _found_ by his handler after he’d lost contact with HQ--and needed a distraction, an outlet for the dark thrumming beneath his chest. He quickly found Smith Street and a eighteen year old who looked far too gaunt and far too experienced for his age. He wasn’t proud of himself for that night, but he came back the day after to make sure he gave Eggsy back the kind of life he’d taken away from him.

So like before and the time before that and all the other times in the previous six years since then, Harry discarded the thought as easily as it came. He’d come to terms with the initial guilt he’d felt for being the catalyst of such miserable childhood, he’d been forgiven, and he’d made amends. He’d helped Eggsy find his purpose and fulfill his desires in an organization that can and would provide for him, and if not the organization, then the agents that he helped because though sex may seem recreational and frivolous to the general populace, what Eggsy gave to them was most certainly not.

In their line of work, darkness could too easily creep beneath their skin and consume them from the inside out. There were many ways to deal with it, certainly, and many ways that the agents also utilized—psychotherapy, physical training, various recreational hobbies, service animals, and what have you--but sex was easy, it was effective, it was enticing. It allowed the agents to release the sludge that crawled through their veins before it started to cling to them, and Eggsy was _more_ than willing to help.

Eggsy’s voice was reedy with need when he spoke. “It ain’t that I ain’t glad that ‘is mission went well, you know?” he said while Harry applied his teeth gently to the crease between arse and thigh. His next words contained a series of moans in them. “But Bors is always unnecessarily _tender_ -like when ‘e’s done ‘imself a good job.”

Harry hummed noncommittally, choosing instead to lick the juncture of Eggsy’s thigh and cock and make him squeal. With one hand, he discreetly worked his cock out of his trousers. “Are these not enough to appeal to your tastes, then?” he asked, fitting the fingers of the other hand over the impressions Bors’s fingers made on Eggsy’s left hip. The boy shifted.

“‘E could’a done better, t’ be honest,” was the breathy answer.

Harry lifted himself away from Eggsy’s arse to whisper into the back of his neck, “Insatiable little whore.”

The cry Eggsy made when Harry fucked into him with one brutal thrust could fuel weeks apart from him when Harry had no one but himself to keep him company. Eggsy’s hole squelched around him, exactly as loose and as sloppy as Harry wanted him, although he wouldn’t have objected to a little more. 

Once, he’d taken Eggsy after Percival and Lancelot had had him, at the same time, and it had been goddamned _spectacular_.

“I should let Geraint have at you again,” Harry muttered through grunts of effort to pound his boy into the mattress. “Then maybe you wouldn’t be quite so unappreciative of Bors’s _tender_ affections.”

"D--d’ya think ‘e would?" Eggsy managed to gasp out despite Harry's very best intentions to smother his words with moans. "'E never seems ta need me after 'is missions, 'cept fer that one time."

That gave Harry pause, and his pace slowed as he thought of the words to respond to it. There was no specific inflection in Eggsy's voice to give Harry a full understanding of his feelings towards it, but rather a mix of disappointment, pouting, curiosity, and hope. "Liam has a very specific taste," he decided to start with as an explanation. Geraint was the agent nearest Harry's tenure where Harry held the longest among all twelve. He'd known the man a long time, and thusly knew him well. "And he fears if he were to indulge it too deeply, too frequently, it would carry over into other aspects of his life," he told Eggsy, before adding, "Quite ridiculous, really, as he's one of our most disciplined agents--hence why he rarely has the excuse of needing you in the first place--but I suppose that decision of his helps him maintain such discipline."

"Meanin' that one time was 'im bein' _disciplined_?" Eggsy asked, a little disbelieving if his raised eyebrows were any indication. "I ‘ad bruises on me fer _weeks_!"

"Not the usual degree of discipline, but yes. And maybe that’s exactly why he fears the loss of his control," Harry pointed out. Eggsy bit his lip, thoughtful in the face of that revelation, so Harry shoved himself in him just _this_ side of too hard to bring his attention back to the matter at hand. As expected, Eggsy let loose a wanton moan and pushed himself back onto the cock in him, interest remembered but their conversation not entirely forgotten. The effect it had was turning Eggsy's words teasing instead of thoughtful.

"D’ya think if I ask 'im real nice, 'e'd let loose on me fer me birthday?" Eggsy threw Harry a look over his shoulder and batted his eyelashes coyly. "You can come watch."

Harry laughed. "Not a force in the world would stop me from doing so." With a gentle stroke down his boy's spine, he mused, "You'd look spectacular on the other end of his whip, sweetling, and just as pretty convincing him to hold it." Eggsy threw his head back to ask for a kiss, and when Harry pushed closer to oblige, he sunk himself deeply into the wanting hole. In this position he could only grind, not thrust, but it didn't seem to matter because Eggsy matched his movements turning such a simple action into incentive to orgasm.

Harry groaned as the hole around him clenched and stroked his cock, sucking him in like Eggsy's particularly talented mouth and drooling come on his balls. "Darling," he moaned. "Oh, darling, just like that, yes." Eggsy reached up to yank him down to continue the lewd, wet kiss Harry had broken as he was driven straight out of his mind.

His shout was muffled by Eggsy's mouth when he came, blindingly hard and filling his boy up completely, and when his fingers dug bruises into the bruises left behind by Bors, Eggsy tore his mouth away to wail out his own climax. His hole spasmed around Harry's orgasm-sensitized member and made Harry choke on his next breath. His hips pistoned minutely into Eggsy out of their own volition, not thrusting but merely feeling, as he rode out the waves of euphoria that slowly ebbed away.

When Harry eventually found the fortitude to pull out, Eggsy quickly flipped around and pushed him to lie back against the pillows, his half-hard cock hanging out of his pants. The boy licked his lips, and his eyes glittered while his mouth descended on Harry's wet cock, and though neither of them expected another round out of it, Harry allowed him that indulgence, to lick him clean of two different essences like his prick was a particularly tasty popsicle.

"Pretty boy," he praised while his fingers carded through the blond hair, scratching lightly at his scalp and making Eggsy purr. He smacked his lips when he was done and crawled over and up Harry like he wasn't leaking from two loads in his arse and staining the bulletproof trousers. Harry gave him a pointed look, and he answered with a cheeky grin.

"So 'ow'd your meeting wiv Arthur go?" the boy asked, cuddling into him like a sated cat. Harry wrapped his arms around his lover's waist and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Is 'e still tryin' ta make you listen wiv 'is sagely, wise old man voice?" The frankly accurate impression of Arthur's 'sagely, wise old man voice’ made Harry laugh.

"Unfortunately so," he answered. "Where he got the idea that it would in any way work on me, I don't know, but it does prove its value in amusement from time to time."

Eggsy giggled and bit lightly at his neck, then mock sternly said, "Though I 'ope you do listen ter 'im every once in a while coz if I 'ave to sleep on that fuckin' chair in Medical one more time, I'm lockin' yer sorry arse out my room fer an 'ole month."

Taking the threat for what it was: an admission of love and worry, Harry smiled gently down at his lover and tipped Eggsy’s face up by his chin for a deep kiss. He couldn’t promise Eggsy that it wouldn’t happen again--even if he did do his utmost to make sure of it--so instead, he teased, “Shall I ask Facilities to get you a more comfortable seat? Maybe an extra bed?”

This time, Eggsy’s scowl was real. “You can listen ter Merlin an’ Arthur when they fuckin’ tell you ter stay the fuck down and possibly not catch a goddamned flash bomb in the face, you _arse_.”

“Mmm,” Harry hummed noncommittally, kissing away Eggsy’s frown until his lover was kissing him back. Then he asked teasingly, “Then how am I supposed to keep them on their toes?” Eggsy smacked his chest and sulkily climbed off of him while Harry laughed.

“Maybe I _should_ kick you out fer an ‘ole month. See if you’d still be inclined ter keep Merlin an’ Arthur on their toes then,” he declared. Harry reached out to snag his wrist and reel him back in, but he danced out of the way and straight into the bathroom. Harry chuckled once more and followed him there, watching as he slipped behind the shower glass for a quick wash.

The boy ignored him, mostly, instead fiddling with the shower knobs and rubbing the soap briskly over himself while water rained about him. It was purely practical, his shower was, with zero intent to seduce or interest and mostly fueled by the petulant air about him, but like always, Harry found enjoyment in simply watching his lover anyway. “Clear your schedule tomorrow. Arthur asked for you to sit with him,” he said while Eggsy, with one arm braced against the shower wall, pressed two fingers into his arse, scooping out what Harry and Stephen had left there. 

There was a moan hovering at his lips that melded into his words. He answered without turning in Harry’s direction, instead relishing the fingers in him, “Mmm? Fer wot?”

Harry leaned one shoulder against the wall, enjoying the show readily being offered. “Video conference with MI6, the CIA, and heads of some other intelligence agencies. I was made to believe it’s going to be quite tedious.”

Eggsy’s head suddenly came up, and he leaned around the shower glass. “I ain’t gotta ‘ave ter put on a show fer them, am I?” he asked dubiously. His eyebrows were drawn together in mild concern. 

“ _Most certainly not_ ,” Harry quickly answered, appalled at the very thought. He wouldn’t have asked Eggsy at all if Arthur had given any indication that Eggsy were to… perform for the others as well. It was one thing to share his lover with people he’d known for decades and trusted with his life. Quite another entirely to share him with those that he did not. “I understand Chester intends to sit you right beneath the screen where they can’t see you and make you fuck yourself so he can watch when he’s bored.”

Visibly relieved, Eggsy ducked back into the shower. “Well, in that case, I’m glad ‘e’s finally found time fer me again. Seems ages ago since ‘e was last free fer a shag. D’ya think ‘e’d want me ter bring a gag, too?” The shower knobs were shut off, and Harry helpfully held a towel up for Eggsy to step into. He received a vaguely semen-tasting kiss for his effort.

“Maybe the convertible one for variety,” he suggested.

“Hm. That one ‘as a weird taste. Like it was soaked in old cookin’ oil. ‘Ve been meanin’ ter toss it out,” Eggsy answered with a frown before he disappeared into the adjacent walk-in closet. Harry took the time he was in there to clean his clothes of the spunk trailed along his crotch area.

“Then bring the one Gawain bought you. The blue one,” Harry suggested again and this time received an affirmative before the sound of shuffling clothes and silence.

“Which one d’ya think?” Eggsy asked, emerging from the closet. Harry lifted his head and scrunched his nose at the two equally horrendous polo shirts his boy held aloft. The only saving grace of having to make such choice was the vision of Eggsy’s undone fly boasting his lack of underpants beneath his jeans.

“Neither, if you ask me. But that one, if you truly must,” Harry answered with mild disgust, gesturing vaguely to the striped shirt as if such gesture would make Eggsy rethink his fashion sense. No dice. The boy only grinned before disappearing once more into the closet. Harry made a face into the mirror since Eggsy wasn’t there to appreciate it. He said, while wiping again at his trousers, “And if Caradoc continues to buy you any more of those awful things, I might have to revoke his rights to you.”

“Aww, but I like ‘em!” Eggsy laughed, his voice muffled by the closet walls. “Don’t you want me ter be ‘appy?”

Harry answered without a missed beat, “It’s a give and take relationship, darling. You give up those godawful shirts, and I take you to bed.” He earned himself a bark of laughter for that one. He gave his trousers a final pat, acceptably clean now though there was still a visible wet spot and a faint streak of white. Nevermind, though, Dagonet could deal with that. 

He turned at exactly the same moment Eggsy emerged with an even more disastrous jacket over the polo, his favorite winged trainers, and a shit-eating grin, so he heaved a big sigh and decided, “You’re deliberately picking the worst things you can find just so you can annoy me.” Eggsy laughed and dragged him down by the front of his shirt for a kiss.

“I promise I’m not.” Then with a wink, he added, “But I can’t say I ain’t enjoyin’ it.”

“Cheeky brat,” Harry growled and kissed him.

……………

Arthur had been the last and the hardest among the members of the Round Table to earn the attentions of. Not that Eggsy had been trying very hard to do so. 

When he’d first arrived, Arthur had proven himself to be a classist, aging prick with a stick shove so far up his arse that Eggsy swore he could see it when he opened his mouth, and Arthur decided that Eggsy was an untrustworthy, no-breeding slag who would ruin them all. 

They avoided each other like the plague, something the agents and Merlin helped them do, but when being in the same vicinity was entirely unavoidable, they traded barbed insults beneath fake smiles and polite words.

For three years, they had lived and worked in the mansion like the other didn’t exist, and though their initial explosive arguments turned into a simmering coldness over time, for three years, they were each other’s worst enemies in Kingsman. 

Then, with one incident, that had changed--not instantly, mind, but a single instance that was the catalyst of Arthur’s redemption in Eggsy’s eyes. It was the day Geraint had needed Eggsy.

He had come off of a spectacularly catastrophic mission, three years after Eggsy had started living in the mansion. Twenty children dead after he had loaded them onto an awaiting chopper to take them away from the man who had kidnapped them to be drug mules and a double agent fired a missile at it.

He was a wrecked man.

Covered head to toe in the blood of the agent who’d killed those children, Geraint snapped and fought against anyone that dared approach him. He holed himself up in his bedroom for three days straight, no food and water consumed for the entirety of it, until Harry encroached his space. They spoke for hours, fought for a lot of it because Harry emerged bleeding at the temple and bruised and his suit torn in several places. He summoned Eggsy and asked him to take care of Geraint. So Eggsy did.

He approached Geraint like one would a wounded animal, slow and deliberate, and sat at his feet, ignoring the broken furniture around them and the blood dripping from his split lip. “Anything you want,” he told him, reaching out to rub circles into Geraint’s ankle with his thumb. “Let me help,” he pleaded, taking the agent’s hand and pressing kisses to the torn knuckles.

“You wouldn’t want what I want, _boy_ ,” Geraint growled at him. He tried to pull his hand away, but Eggsy held tight, knowing that the fact that he was able to do so at all was only because the agent allowed it. Eggsy said nothing and twisted his hand around to press a kiss to his palm. Then he drew a single finger into his mouth and sucked lightly at it. 

“Not now,” was the almost pleaded utterance. Eggsy let go of his hand to fumble at the buttons of his own shirt, and the finger regrettably withdrew from his mouth, but that was okay because Geraint used it to tip his chin up. “Now, I’d ruin you.”

“You can’t break what’s already been broken,” Eggsy answered, finally freeing the buttons from their holes and pushing his shirt off his shoulders, baring himself to the brooding man. 

There was a thrill in the midst of the darkness around them--maybe because of it--to bare himself to a man that could kill him with a single blow, that may do so if Eggsy made a mistake. Eggsy wanted this, the promise of whatever _this_ was, as much as he wanted to help Geraint. He rubbed his cheek into the hand that cupped it. “Let me help, love. I can give you anything you want. I want to.” Geraint held his gaze, eyes hard and assessing. 

And then his hand wrapped snugly around Eggsy’s throat, forcing his head back.

“Your safeword?” he demanded, and Eggsy knew he’d won.

“Teapot,” he answered promptly.

“You best remember it,” Geraint growled.

“I will,” Eggsy promised.

After that, Eggsy had spent the better part of the week in his room, mostly on Harry's insistence because he was a fucking worrywart was what he was. Eggsy was _fine_ , was more than fine because the better part of the week was also spent in a blissful fog.

Geraint came to see him twice in that week, once to check on him (and find that he was perfectly fine, see, Harry?), which was also when Eggsy found he, too, was now so much better than before, and Eggsy was only glad to have been able to help, and once more to say thank you with a massive arrangement of flowers and a kiss on the cheek.

Towards the end of said week, Arthur had called for Eggsy. In the three years Eggsy had spent in the mansion, only once had he been called for before and that was for Arthur to tell him he wasn't worthy to _breathe_ in their direction let alone live among them. As such, the summons put him at attention and wariness, but he answered it nevertheless because, though Eggsy wasn't a knight and technically wasn't under his command, Arthur was still Arthur and deserved a degree of respect if only for the position alone.

He sat himself in front of the man, stiff and formal in his best suit because while Arthur knew very well who and what he was, he wasn't going to give him ammunition.

Surprisingly, he got a kind "It suits you" from Arthur with a nod at the suit. It worked miracles in relaxing his stance.

"Thank you," he accepted graciously.

Arthur seemed immensely pleased by that. He took just a moment longer to stare at Eggsy, not to make him uncomfortable, but seemingly collecting his thoughts in his head. And then he spoke.

"It has been brought to my attention that you've grown to demonstrate yourself an integral asset in our organization in the matter of the care and recuperation of our field agents." Eggsy nodded, not quite sure what reaction was warranted. "It's been told to me for quite some time now, and though I have seen some changes among my knights since your arrival, I did not truly associate it with your presence and... well, assistance. 

“Geraint, who, as you very well know, has just gone through a truly troublesome mission, recently sought me out and vociferously spoke on your behalf. It was quite the impassioned speech, I assure you." There was a point to this, and Eggsy was still waiting to hear it.

Arthur sighed and bowed his head in the next moment, and when he looked back up, there was a determined expression on his face. "I believe that I owe you an apology." Eggsy's jaw dropped.

"Be assured that I hadn't been forced into such an action by any outside force, though Geraint did have a great degree of influence, I have to admit," he continued while Eggsy gaped. "If it hadn't been for him, I would probably have avoided this meeting altogether. But as it is, I believe that there is a fault that lies with me for failing to give you the recognition you deserve on the basis of your upbringing alone." Eggsy was still gaping, so Arthur gave him a small, sad smile and asked, "Can you find it in you to forgive an old man?"

"I--" Eggsy started to say, but because he was still stunned and just a little bit floaty, he lost his words. “Yeah, I guess--I mean… It’s not--I--” He bit his lip and drew his eyebrows together, willing his act to pull itself together. They may not have had the best relationship (Ha! An epic understatement), but Eggsy knew Arthur well enough to know that this--for Arthur, a nobleman of ancient lineage, to apologize to a worthless _chav_ for his _principles_ \--was a grand gesture. A _massive_ gesture, and Eggsy was fucking this up. He sat up straighter and smoothed out his expression. “Yes. Yes, of course. Thank you.”

There was no quick fix to a man who had held those very same principles for a good seventy years of his life. He and Eggsy still did clash, and he’d still say something alarmingly classist, but the very next day, he’d apologize by filling Eggsy’s room up with vases and vases of daisies, by sending Eggsy a 1945 Macallan, by treating him and Harry to a dinner at the Alain Ducasse, by having Dagonet whip up one of his finest suits. And Eggsy would say something defensively insulting and would apologize by bringing up tea and biscuits to Arthur in his office, by acquiring him those expensive little truffles he absolutely adored, by having a handsome desk plaque made for him which read ‘fucker in charge of all you fucking fucks’ that Arthur now proudly used in his office.

And slowly after that, Arthur sent him things just for the hell of it. A tuxedo and ballet tickets for two because Eggsy had never seen Giselle. A tricked-out MB&F HM4 watch because even though all the agents agreed it was horrendously ugly for something of its price and Harry once or twice threatened to maim it, Arthur thought it suited Eggsy and Eggsy _loved_ it. A full wet bar stocked with all Eggsy’s favorite drinks. And on his birthday a year and a half passed, Arthur gave him his bedroom, newly refurbished to suit Eggsy’s sensibilities and, well, _duties_. Eggsy thanked him then by sitting him down on the bed, climbing into his lap, and most unashamedly rutting into his pristine suit.

Now, when Arthur has need for Eggsy, he goes without second thought. He’s rarely asked for because Arthur is a busy, busy man, and indulging in luxuries is not high on his list of priorities. It’s even rarer for Arthur to call on him himself, mostly because of an underlying guilt that no amount of forgiveness from Eggsy or reparations on his part can seem to dispel; often, it’s Merlin who asks Eggsy to go when Arthur had been strung out for days on end and hadn’t realized it.

He knocked on the door before poking his head in without Arthur’s say so. “You needed me?” he asked.

The frown on Arthur’s face turned into a wide smile, and Eggsy took that as his cue to enter. Already, he noticed the screen over the mantle set up for the video conference and Caradoc’s place at the Round Table arranged for Arthur’s use. He dropped the bag of toys he’d brought on one corner before proceeding to Arthur at his desk. 

“Hello, sweetheart,” Arthur greeted as Eggsy crossed the room and neared him. The boy pressed a kiss to Arthur’s cheek and made space for himself on the desk.

“So when’s yer meetin’ start?” he asked.

“In fifteen minutes,” Arthur answered, glancing quickly at the files in front of him and folding them away to give Eggsy his full attention. He took one of Eggsy’s hands and pressed a kiss to the back of it.

Eggsy smiled and stood. “‘Ow d’ya want me then?”

“Take Lancelot’s chair. Make yourself comfortable; I daresay it’s going to be a long one,” was the instruction and warning before Eggsy obeyed. Arthur stood and followed him to the Table, standing just a little too close while Eggsy shed his jacket, so he tugged Arthur down gently by the tie and pressed a long kiss to his mouth.

“Delectable little thing,” Arthur praised so that Eggsy beamed.

“You gonna be joinin’ me at some point?” he asked somewhat hopefully, but Arthur shook his head.

“I wouldn’t expect it to finish early enough for us to be able to do anything afterward. I’m sure Galahad could provide you some entertainment in the evening, but I’m an old man, sweetheart. After a nice meal and a drink, I’ll be off to bed.”

“We don’t ‘ave ter do nothin.’ I could give you a rub down ter go wiv your drink?” Eggsy offered.

Arthur smiled. “Well, in that case, that would be lovely.” At that point, Eggsy folded up his clothes and set them neatly aside. Arthur brushed his hands over his bare shoulders. “Why don’t you sit down while we wait for them to join us? You will, of course, need to be completely silent when we begin. Heads of intelligence don’t take too kindly to being eavesdropped on.”

“Yeah, figured that. Thought you might like me gagged,” Eggsy informed him with a sly grin.

Arthur’s eyes darkened. “Oh, I most certainly would,” he answered in a low voice. He stroked Eggsy’s cheek with his knuckles. “You’re going to pleasure yourself for me,” he instructed slowly. “I want to see you come as many times as you can, and for each orgasm, I’ll reward you with one favor of your choosing.” Eggsy’s eyes flew open wide at the promise of a blank check--most likely literally as well as figuratively because Chester was a man of enormous inherited wealth and a massive salary to boot with no more wife to squander both for him. “I get to veto what I cannot provide of course,” Arthur added with a teasing sparkle in his eyes. “Can’t have you asking for your own private island.”

“Ah, bollocks,” Eggsy teased back.

Arthur chuckled and continued, “As I said, though, I expect complete and utter silence. For each sound you make, loud or soft, I shall take back one of the favors you’re owed, and if you’re owed none, you shall owe me the favor.” Eggsy nodded in understanding and vibrated with excitement at the game. A fucking _blank check_ from _Arthur_ \--he’s gonna amass a fucking _wealth_ of them by the end of the day.

Arthur took his seat, as did Eggsy, slinging his legs over the armrests of Lancelot’s chair--directly opposite Caradoc’s and just behind the camera that projected Arthur to the other agency heads--and giving Arthur a lovely, lovely view of his cock and arse, just as the first member of the meeting logged on.

Near lunchtime, he’d garnered himself three favors and lost one for a grand total of two so far. Not a bad bargain to be sure especially after he would have given himself away to the rest of the room if not for Arthur’s smooth circumvention. They’d be logging off for lunch in a bit, and Eggsy would be able to relax and possibly regroup because the meeting was fucking _boring_ , and he’d had to go through his entire arsenal and the darkest depths of his imagination to bring himself off three times.

The head of MI6 had been speaking when Arthur suddenly tensed in his seat. His eyes grew tight, and his hand lifted fractionally off of the table before settling back down. Calmly, he spoke over M. “Pardon my interruption, but I must cut away a few minutes early. A situation has cropped up, and it requires my urgent attention.” He allowed them to voice their agreement before tapping at his laptop to shut the feed. By then, Eggsy was already sitting up in concern, his state of debauchment already forgotten. 

“Wot is it?” he asked. When Arthur turned to him, there was an immense degree of trouble on his face.

“Lancelot,” he answered, voice tight. “James has been killed in action.” 

Eggsy jumped to his feet. “ _No_ ,” he whispered in disbelief. 

Not James. 

Not fucking James who was the first to accept Eggsy into the organization when the others were wary and hesitant and mistrustful, who told bawdy jokes and funny tales to make him feel welcomed and at ease, who took him to out for drinks on Tuesday nights and drank him under the table before bringing him back to the mansion and tucking him in.

Not James.

“Alastair!” Eggsy gasped after another beat.

“Go!” Arthur commanded, rising from his seat, but Eggsy was already pulling on his sweatpants and track jacket and nothing underneath for efficiency.

“Where?” he asked, zipping the jacket up to his neck.

“Gun range,” Arthur answered, and Eggsy was out like a shot, his untied shoes flying him through the halls and past the few employees milling about, unaware just yet of the recent tragedy. They’d hear about it soon, though, and they’d all mourn because James was a character, one that, despite his posh accent and privileged upbringing, made them all feel like they were friends.

Minor agents, those who provided mere backup support and extraction, and gun aficionados from other departments hovered at the doorway to the gun range with questions and concern on their faces, clearly just having left it. Or made to leave it.

“Percival ‘ere?” he asked as he slowed, but he already knew because he could hear the methodical sound of a gun firing inside. Many nodded.

“Is something the matter with him?” one techie asked. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together, after all.

“You best be getting back to yer posts,” he answered absently before stepping in and shutting the door in their faces.

He found Percival immediately in one of the stations, a pistol in his hands, no ear and eye protection, firing systematically at a target. Eggsy neared, listening to one shot after another, no missed beat until the magazine was empty and he was reaching into his pocket for another. He knew Percival knew he was there, but he approached slowly and stayed quiet at his side as he emptied another magazine into his target. He reached for another and emptied that one, too. 

He was calm and quiet, no sign of anger or pain or tears anywhere on him, except for the tension in his shoulders. Maybe that was why his shots failed to hit their mark, instead scattered all over the sheet. Telling because no agent was such a sloppy shot. 

He reached for another magazine and found none, but his gun was still held outstretched and his body still a solid line. He pulled the trigger once, and the gun made a pathetic clicking attempt. Eggsy took that as his cue to press up against his back and reach around Percival’s waist with one arm and curl the hand of his other around the extended bicep. He rested his chin on the agent’s shoulder and, for a long moment, held him like that until his arm came down and his tension bled into tiny trembles.

“Come wiv me,” he offered so very gently, half afraid of an outburst that never came. Percival let himself be turned and his hand taken. He let Eggsy lead him out of the range, past concerned and curious stares of the men and women who hadn’t heeded his advice, past knights who offered sympathy and shared in his pain without a single word passed between them, past Harry who only held open the door of the bedroom for them and shut it when they went through, and into Eggsy’s bed where the boy pulled him into his chest and curled around him in the darkness of the drawn curtains.

He said nothing. There was nothing _to_ say to make the situation any less than what it was. So Eggsy simply held him tight and stroked his hair until day turned into night and into day once more.

……………

To be fair, Eggsy expected it when Arthur questioned the wisdom in nominating Eggsy as a candidate for James’s replacement. There would be unavoidable favoritism amongst many employees and all the knights who knew Eggsy better than any other nominated candidate, all of whom would be coming from the outside. It could affect their mentorship towards him vis-a-vis the others, his assessment, even his rapport with his competition. It would give him significant advantage in many, many ways. 

It was a valid concern, and Eggsy felt oddly proud that despite what physical relationship he had with them, they had the fortitude to think rationally about this even at the expense of letting him down. So Eggsy said nothing while the Round Table and Merlin discussed it behind closed doors.

He didn’t deny, however, when asked, that he _desperately_ wanted the chance to join their ranks. Being a knight was insanely dangerous and the training and maintenance of skills rigorous, that much he knew probably better than anyone save the knights themselves, but in the same way that the son of a doctor would likely grow up to become a doctor himself, Eggsy felt an affinity, a _desire_ to possess the same profession of the people he loved. He felt the need to prove that he could do more than just pull the knights out of their own heads. And he felt the poignant urge to fill the hole that James left behind and pull their family together once more.

Eventually, Harry told him that most protestations arose not from the desire of the knights to have a person of their own choosing join them, but from their concern for his well-being.

“You’re a beacon of light in the darkness of our minds,” Harry murmured into his skin, the unrepentant poet that he was. “The first ray of sunshine after months of rain. No one wants to drag you down into what we are.”

‘Down,’ he says, like a knight of the Round Table was anything but the pinnacle of human perfection.

“‘Down,’ says the rich gentleman ter the chav rentboy,” Eggsy scoffed out loud before Harry swiftly rolled on top of him and pinned him down with his flashing gaze and with his hands tight on Eggsy’s wrists.

“This has nothing to do with your upbringing or your misfortunes,” he snapped, incensed at the self-deprecating remark, and Eggsy immediately felt repentant. “I will not have you talking about yourself like _he_ would.” And Eggsy felt ashamed. 

“You, Eggsy Unwin, are better than the whole Table combined for the sole reason that you have a heart purer than any of ours, one that has been exposed to the evils of the world and came out all the better for it. We would have been lost without you, darling. It is no secret why so many knights before us have fallen to desolation and despair when they have none to pull them back, but us? We have you.” 

Eggsy was trying very, very hard to find his words melodramatic and old-fashioned so that he could roll his eyes and brush it off. All he felt, though, was a rising blush in his cheeks, butterflies in his belly, and his eyes burning with emotion.

Harry continued, “Our fear is that if you join us, we would ruin something so precious.” He freed one of Eggsy’s hands so that he could stroke a pink cheek and cup his jaw. “But we also decided that we cannot prevent you from achieving your ambitions, that we hide you away like a diamond in a storage vault. You deserve the chance to try as much as the next person and our own selfish desires cannot stop that.” They shared a kiss because Eggsy’s throat was tight with emotion and he felt that if he was forced to say anything in response, he just might embarrass himself.

“But wouldn’t them other guys complain ‘bout bias?” he finally asked when he had found his voice.

“Oh, they can complain all they want, but in the end, it was Arthur’s decision to accept your candidacy. He instructed Merlin to devise a training program and assessment system that would circumvent any possibly skewed results due to such bias, and you know Merlin. He’d much rather chop his own arm off than elect someone who wouldn’t be up to task.” Merlin was unfailingly impartial, Eggsy knew. The whole of Kingsman knew.

Once, he had Harry-- _Harry_ , his closest and dearest friend--put on suspension for a whole _month_ because he’d failed to put in the relevant expense reports at the proper time for the _thousandth fucking time in your career, Jesus fuck, Harry, you’ve been with the organization for thirty fucking years. Do your goddamned paperwork!_

“The staff have been informed of your candidacy and warned to hold their silence and keep interactions to the minimum, and you’ll be tested based on standards that would allow no room for bias. But if they still cry foul? Well, they can go fuck themselves, can’t they?” Harry finished decisively, so Eggsy grinned brightly and pulled him down for another round of mind-blowing sex.

Harry was right. It was with Arthur’s blessing that he join this group of candidates--the first training group since Bors was elected nine years ago before he’d arrived at the mansion--and nothing the other candidates say would sway that decision. Nevertheless, intense apprehension was what he felt when he stepped into the trainee barracks and everyone’s attention turned to him.

Easily the oddest out of all of them in his snapback and trainers, he earned himself once overs and sneers from most of the boys. Eggsy had to wonder whose candidate was the dark haired one with the pointed face who looked like he stepped in something disgusting when he realized Eggsy was one of them and if he knew that whoever had nominated him was likely shagging Eggsy sideways on a regular basis. He’d probably change his tune if he did, but Eggsy wasn’t going to be the one to tell him. To tell any of them. He was going to earn their respect on his own merits.

The candidate in question was clearly about to say something, but Merlin’s sudden appearance saved Eggsy from any disparaging remarks. 

He tried not to laugh at Merlin’s whole body bag spiel, _seriously_ doubting the truth to it, but had to give pause when he realized who he had to put down as next of kin. In a room of spies-in-training, he wasn’t keen on giving them clues.

And certainly not answers.

“Eggsy…” the pointy-face candidate who Eggsy later learned was named Charlie Hesketh, Arthur’s proposal, a distant nephew, tried his name out on his tongue. “And where did they dig you up?”

“You know we’re not allowed to discuss who proposed us,” said Roxy Morton, Alastair’s girl, saving him from having to deflect. Later, she wisely advised him, “Ignore them.”

“Do you need a pen?” the only other female of the batch asked.

“Thanks,” Eggsy said sincerely and scrawled his name on the body bag. Beside ‘next of kin’ he wrote ‘am I supposed to pretend he’d let either of us end up in this?’ and quickly folded up his bag before any of the others could see.

Of course, later on, despite his finding Merlin’s threats implausible to the point of humor, he had to rethink his stance and wonder if it was Merlin, for having devised the test, or Arthur, who approved it, who was the more insane.

“You fucking _killed_ ‘er!” Eggsy yelled at all three of them in Arthur’s office, Harry included. They were hiding something, Eggsy knew because all three of them were stone faced like they usually weren’t around him, but his anger was winning out over his curiosity.

“You know the risks, Eggsy,” Merlin said calmly. “If they can’t hack it in training, they won’t be able to hack it in the field.”

“Oh, is _that_ wot ‘appened ter my father, then? ‘E couldn’t fucking _hack it_ in trainin’?!” he nearly spat.

Harry fidgeted, but it was Arthur who drew his attention when he rose from his seat, silent till now, so Eggsy quieted. “If you wish to withdraw, Eggsy, none of us will hold it against you,” he said quietly, evenly so Eggsy knew he was angry. “These are the risks, the sacrifices Kingsman will make in order to ensure that we get only the finest people to join our ranks because any failure to secure knights who are up to par with our standards could very well mean hundreds, _thousands_ of lives lost in their next failed mission, and despite how... humorously you completed your agreement, you, too, have acknowledged and agreed to these risks.”

Arthur was right, of course, and Eggsy was being obtuse. He was warned about all of this, far more than any of the others were even. He _knew_ the risks, and he _pushed_ for this anyway. 

Properly chastised, he looked down at his feet like a scolded child. “I’m sorry,” he apologized softly. “I just… they shouldn’t ‘ave ter die fer a job.” And that was the centerpoint of his anger, really. Not fear. Just that no one should have to die to land a job.

Polished Oxfords entered his field of vision, and he allowed Harry to tilt his face up. His cheek was stroked as Harry murmured, “Such a caring, wonderful boy. Don’t you see why we want you to stay exactly as you are?” Eggsy bit his lip and accepted the kiss pressed to his cheek. “I’m sorry we upset you, darling. I’m sure Merlin can try to make it so that none of the others follow Amelia’s fate.” Eggsy turned to the tech genius who nodded once, and affirmed, “I will try, lad.” 

It was as good as any binding contract, so Eggsy offered him a smile, and joked to lighten the mood, “Can you maybe get rid of Charlie first?” And Eggsy was fucking _hilarious_ , so of course they laughed.

…………….

He’d never been out for this long, not for _eight goddamned months_ , and with each one that passed where he lay ashen on the bed, Eggsy wanted to scream, wanted to cry, wanted to lay beside him and wait there till he woke up. 

Instead, he continued his training. Instead, he helped the knights when they needed him. Instead, he sat in that godawful chair when he had time to spare and helped the nurses clean him up and exercise his muscles. Harry would be fucking proud of him.

If only he would wake up.

“Eggsy,” Merlin called into the gym where Eggsy and the other remaining five candidates were exercising during their mandatory work out sessions. He was up on the rings when Merlin came, and so he executed a perfect dismount--which may or may not have been to show off--and hurried up to their trainer, expecting a summons for Kay who was due to arrive today from Shanghai.

The other trainees had noticed it, of course, the way Eggsy would be called out far more frequently than the rest of them. At first, he’d avoided the question altogether, not having an excuse prepared because he wasn’t quite sure if he _wanted_ to make excuses. He had nothing to hide after all, no reason to fear if they cried foul. But after a few months, it had become difficult to evade their curiosity--even Roxy’s who was usually first to defend him. They were, after all, potential spies, and what poor spies they were to make if they didn’t strive to uncover secrets and truth. So Merlin decided for him and told him to tell them that he had extra sessions to catch him up to speed where their upbringing put them at an advantage--dance classes, etiquette lessons, and the like--and that the irregularity of time was due to the instructor's availability.

He didn’t need any of those, of course. Six years with posh twats meant he’d already learned all of those things whether he wanted to or not, but he wasn’t of the habit of hiding or changing his true self. Why would he? There was nothing wrong with him.

As expected, Charlie and his mates gave him grief for it every time he disappeared, but Eggsy quickly forgot all about the wankers when he had a cock balls-deep in his throat and a _real_ gentleman telling him how lovely he was.

“Kay landed?” he asked quietly, but Merlin shook his head.

“He’s awake, lad,” was the equally quiet answer, and Eggsy’s heart stopped in his chest. Merlin must have mistaken his astonishment for a need for more information because he added, “Not an hour ago. They just finished checking him over. He’s asking for you.” Without further word, Eggsy ran like the devil himself was chasing after him.

He was awake. 

Harry was _awake_ , and Eggsy wanted to cry.

He flung the door of Harry’s ward open and found himself staring into twinkling, _lively_ eyes. 

“Ever heard of knocking?” the agent teased, but Eggsy was about to fucking _cry_ , so he ignored his stupid lover and flung himself into the man’s arms. 

“ _Oof_!” Harry grunted when Eggsy slammed into him, rocking back unsteadily because it’s only been an _hour_ since he awoke, but his arms found their way around Eggsy’s waist, and their lips found each other’s, and he was warm and familiar and fucking _alive_ that a sob crawled up Eggsy’s throat.

“You _fucker_. I fucking _hate_ you, you _arse_ ,” Eggsy hissed angrily to hide his distress. He even hid his face in Harry’s neck, but his voice was watery and he was maybe shaking a little bit, so Harry wasn’t fooled. 

“Shh… I’m sorry, darling, I know,” Harry murmured, stroking his hair and nuzzling his cheek.“I know. I’m sorry.”

Eggsy, of course, refused to leave his side, and no one attempted to make him do so, and by the following day, he was on top of the fucking world. _Nothing_ could bring him down, not even his stupid fucking lover who suggested that he be sent on recon at Valentine’s _one day after having woken up from an eight-month-long coma_ (Needless to say, Eggsy yelled his ear off in front of the whole damn Medical team. It was a cathartic feeling.) and not even Merlin who made him jump off a fucking plane with _no goddamned parachute_.

“Why’d you choose me as the gimp?” he demanded. “Ter make a point that I ain’t any less expendable than the others?”

Merlin’s eyes narrowed. “No, no, no. You don’t talk to me like that,” he said, tone low and dangerous. Frightening almost. “If you have a complaint, you come here and you whisper it in my ear.” His little finger gesture was a dare if Eggsy had ever seen one, and Eggsy always rose to the challenge.

He opened his mouth to hiss out an expletive in said ear, but only a yelp of surprise emerged when he was hauled backwards a few meters and dumped on his ass. Merlin walked over and stood over him, eyes flashing in smug triumph. “You best start using your head, boy.”

Okay, so maybe he _had_ had a parachute after all.

……………

It was a test.

It was a test, and it was never going to amount to more than... well, than grinding in the middle of the club’s dance floor, than wet, heated kisses, than unnecessary _touching_ of things that didn’t belong to them--and where in the ever loving _fuck_ was Rowan?

He turned to Merlin to see him grinning broadly at the screen where Eggsy, on the pretense of 'dancing,' was shamelessly rutting into the perky arse of ‘Lady’ Sophie who was just as shamelessly enjoying his attention as his 'mark' for his 'honeypot mission.' Eggsy didn't know, of course, that she was one of them, but she knew exactly who he was and, knowing she'd never have access to him otherwise, was working it to her advantage.

"You're getting off on this," Harry accused his friend. Merlin turned to him, an eyebrow raised and his fucking grin still on his fucking face.

"No," he answered slowly, like talking to a small child. Harry resented that. He resented it very much. " _You're_ getting off on this. _I_ get off on him sleeping beneath my desk with my cock in his mouth. _You_ get off on passing him around to all your friends and watching them fuck him."

"Of which she is not," Harry sniffed. "Besides, my intentions in sharing him are entirely altruistic. Not because I 'get off on it.'" Merlin barked a sudden and disbelieving laugh.

"Altruistic my arse!" he crowed before tapping on a key on the console behind him. On the screen, Rowan suddenly appeared beside Eggsy and Sophie to offer them a drink. That done, he turned once more to Harry. 

"When you flaunt your lover around HQ and lend him out like a toy, you're bound to get a few interested looks from even those you don't wish to lend him to, and I am simply enjoying watching you flail in the hole you dug yourself into." Killing Merlin was _not_ an option, Harry told himself, and neither was maiming him if he wanted to avoid extended missions in Russia. "Do you know _how_ many people offered to be the mark when word got out?" Merlin's tone made Harry believe he didn't want to know, so he didn't ask. Merlin told him anyway, "One hundred and thirty two. I had volunteers from Argentina, Harry. _Argentina_!"

"Yes, thank you, Merlin. I've been waiting to be told everyone in the entire Kingsman network wants a piece of my boy's arse," Harry deadpanned.

"It’s a pleasure," Merlin grinned once more and turned back to the screen where the unconscious candidates were being hauled into the transport vehicle.

Eggsy did marvellously, of course. Harry didn't doubt that for a second. He watched his lover realize the train hadn't killed him and opened his eyes to look up into Harry's.

"Bloody well done," he praised and enjoyed Eggsy's preening.

"Yeah? You wanna get me out of these?" Eggsy asked, tugging at the bonds around his wrist and ankles.

Harry's mouth quirked a small grin. "Not particularly, no," he said even as he played with the knife that was meant to do so. He took two steps to walk over Eggsy and kneel down to partially straddle his waist.

"Just here then?" Eggsy asked, trying and failing to suppress a grin. When Harry tugged his polo out of his jeans and exposed his stomach, he pushed up into Harry’s touch, asking for more of it. “You could, you know?” Eggsy offered, breathless at the promise of it and looking maybe not a little bit excited at the knife Harry still held in hand.

Harry’s smile was sharp and feral. “You’d let me,” he said, and it wasn’t a question. “Right here where anyone can watch me fuck you into the filthy ground.”

“D’ya want me ter beg?” Eggsy asked. “Because I will, Harry.”

“Of course, you would,” was Harry’s answer, and then reached up and cut the ropes at his wrists. Disappointment was clear on Eggsy’s face when he pouted, but Harry ignored him. They were being watched, and while Harry usually wouldn't mind, Roxy was among them, and they’d already given away enough. “Roxy passed with flying colors. Charlie’s up next. Want to watch?” he asked instead. For a second, Eggsy was still pouting, but the ropes were already ruined and Harry had already stood up, so he must have figured there wasn’t anything to be had for remaining there.

“Yeah. Alright,” he said with a put-upon sigh.

Merlin had an eyebrow lifted at him, and Percival gave him a baleful look because Roxy was glaring at Eggsy the moment they stepped into the control room. Her eyes were narrowed in question, and when they were close enough, he heard her hiss at Eggsy, “Since when has _that_ been going on?” Eggsy winced and edged just a step closer to Harry, away from her.

“Tell you ‘bout it after?” he begged. Of course, he didn't say when ‘after’ was, the wily boy, but it was enough to appease Roxy. She narrowed her eyes further at him, but thankfully nodded.

Fortunately, after Charlie had been eliminated, Merlin promptly ordered them away, and Harry didn’t allow Roxy the chance to corner his boy. Much later, he received a message from Percival, telling him, “She’s been demanding to know about you and Eggsy. Much obliged to be left to deal with this, you wanker. You couldn’t have kept it in your trousers one more day?” 

Twenty four hours of free time was so much more than they had been given in the past ten months, and Harry was looking forward to spending all of it with a naked Eggsy in bed and hopefully with more than one cock to occupy his boy with. Maybe handcuff him to the bedpost to keep him there.

“One more,” Eggsy giggled, and Harry doubted he meant the fingers he was using to pry open his boy’s arse.

“Hmm?” he asked for clarification.

“One more test, and I’ll finally be a Kingsman,” was the boy’s dreamy answer. Not the usual reaction out of training-hardened men, but then again he’d just given up two consecutive orgasms.

And though Harry was the one who put forward Eggsy’s name and though he’d do anything for his boy including offering him unwavering support and guidance, there was a part of him--a tiny, shameful part that he vowed would never see the light of day--that hoped Eggsy would never get the position. His boy was capable and deadly and every bit Kingsman-worthy material as any other agent was, but being an agent meant he would get hurt, that he could be killed in the line of duty, and Harry wasn’t quite sure that he could deal with that when it came to it.

“Roxy’s still in the running, love,” he reminded him gently, but Eggsy only murmured a half-hearted response and opened up for Harry’s fingers.

…………...

He knew it was about the final test when Arthur called for him the next day, and despite the nerves he felt as one was wont to have before any exam, he felt particularly ecstatic that he'd managed to reach this point in his training and was maybe a little loose from Harry's’ attentions last night, so as soon as he was near enough, he slid himself smoothly into Arthur's lap and draped his arms around his neck, leaving JB sitting at by the door a few meters away in case things got... enthusiastic.

"Hello, sweetheart," Arthur greeted fondly, one hand delicately finding his hip, but it was the sadness on his face that gave Eggsy much pause. The smile fell off of his face.

"Din’t I make it?" he asked quietly, reigning in his disappointment until the confirmation of his suspicions.

"You still have to complete your final test, don't you?" Arthur reminded him. Immeasurable was the relief that flowed through him tempered only by his increased confusion.

So he asked, "So wot's wrong?" And then Arthur handed him a gun.

Eggsy stared at it for a long moment, more confused than ever and a little bit worried because the setting they were in--Arthur’s sitting room, namely--didn’t warrant a gun, otherwise he would have been called to the gun range or the obstacle course or anywhere else except Arthur’s sitting room. 

Then Arthur murmured, "Shoot the dog."

Eggsy staggered off of his lap and nearly dropped the pistol. He gaped at the man, incredulous, horrified, and _torn_ at the implication of his order.

A job? Or JB?

"You... you _can't_!” he protested. “Merlin _promised_!" It was petulant and childish and not becoming of a Kingsman agent, and Eggsy didn't _care_! He’d raised JB from a tiny, shivering little thing into an obedient, well-trained adult. JB was his _baby_ in all the ways that counted and some that didn’t.

"Merlin promised that no other _candidate_ would follow Amelia's fate," Arthur pointed out, his voice even and the sadness fading away in favor of determination. He repeated, "Shoot the dog, Eggsy."

" _He's not a fucking dog_!" Eggsy bellowed. "He's _JB_! He's JB, and he's mine!"

"If you want to pass this test, Eggsy, you _will_ shoot your fucking dog!" Arthur snapped.

Eggsy felt his body tense all over, felt his eyes drip venom at his leader. An intense calm came over him as he made his choice. "I thought you'd changed," he growled, disappointed, furious, and scared. 

And then he lifted the gun at JB, ignoring the wide, trusting eyes and aiming at his heaving chest. The pug licked his lips and wagged his tail as though expecting to play, and Eggsy shut his eyes. "I'll never forgive you," he told Arthur and pulled the trigger.

JB's pained yelp and noisy whimpers was accompanied by a sob out of Eggsy. When they were silenced, he turned away from his pup and found himself pulled into a warm embrace.

"Shhh," Harry murmured, suddenly _there_. "It's okay--"

"It's not!" Eggsy shouted, struggling to pull himself from his lover’s arms, but Harry held strong and stroked his back.

Quickly, Harry assured, "No, no, Eggsy. It's okay. JB's okay. It was a tranq, darling." Eggsy' head shot up to look into Harry's sadly smiling face. "Merlin modified the bullet to make JB sleep, not kill him. He's alive," he confirmed. Eggsy--still stunned--took a step back, Harry allowing him this time, glanced at JB who was lying on his side and breathing steadily, then turned back to Harry.

And then punched him in the face.

“Fuck,” he heard Harry whine at Arthur when Eggsy picked JB up and stomped back into his room.

“Yer fuckin’ sick in the ‘ead, and I _hate_ you,” he told Merlin when the magician came to apologize later on. JB, who was curled up on Eggsy’s chest, both of them snuggled beneath his duvet, perked up at the visitor, but Eggsy held him tight against his chest. “No, JB,” he commanded, and the pup settled.

“It had to be done, lad,” the older man said as he sat himself down within arm’s reach of Eggsy but not touching just yet.

“Sick,” Eggsy repeated, and then indignantly, “‘Ow could you fuckin’ _do_ that to me? To JB? To Roxy?” Then he remembered Roxy. “Did she pass?”

Merlin nodded. “Aye, lad,” he answered. “The Table has convened to review your evaluations and exams and choose the new Lancelot between the two of you.” That… Well, that worried Eggsy because except for the skydiving test and the sniper test, Roxy was at par with him or better in all the others. And Harry had told him none of the knights were particularly keen on him joining them, regardless of how noble their intentions; would that affect their decision at all?

“I know you may not understand why we made you shoot JB,” Merlin continued to say, cutting into his thoughts. “So I came here to explain.” Eggsy refocused his attention on him, the Table’s meeting forgotten for now because there was little he could do about that except worry, which wouldn’t help him in the slightest.

“The test was about two things, Eggsy,” Merlin started with. “We need to be able to trust you to do something that may be morally objectionable to you, and you need to trust us to make the right call regardless. You very well know that our work is not black and white. We’re not even a solid shade of grey. Kingsman does what is necessary to keep the world at peace, and sometimes the option we choose is a necessary evil. _Trust_ , Eggsy, is our most valued asset.”

When he explained it that way, Eggsy suddenly felt ashamed at his outburst at Arthur, at Harry, and at Merlin, but he was still feeling petulant, so instead of apologizing, he asked, “And the second?”

“The second,” Merlin continued, “is about sentimentality.” Eggsy knew what he meant before he explained, but allowed him to do so anyway. “It hurts to let go of something--or _someone_ we love, lad. It’s human nature. But in our line of work, it’s even worse than that: it’s dangerous. 

“I’ve seen agents become reckless and disobedient, endangering themselves, Kingsman, and their charges, when they’re lost to grief. I’m seen them wither away in their misery when their tether to the world is cut. What would you do, Eggsy, if an agent goes rogue and you were ordered to take him out? If Harry did? Would you take the shot, knowing that with his skills and knowledge he could become a viable threat to crown and country?”

No, Eggsy knew but couldn’t say. No, no, fucking _no_.

He’d see the world burn before he’d kill Harry.

Merlin’s expression smoothed out, but said nothing about Eggsy’s complete and sudden stillness. Instead, he drew closer and chanced the opportunity to press a kiss to Eggsy’s forehead. “Stay here, lad. We’ll call for you when the Table has come to a decision.” He tilted Eggsy’s face up and said with utmost sincerity, “I’m _proud_ of you, lad.” With another kiss to his cheek, Merlin left, and Eggsy burrowed beneath the duvet, JB all but forgotten.

“Darling,” Harry murmured two hours later, petting his hair that was peeking out of the sheets. Eggsy hadn’t been asleep, but he didn’t move into the touch either. Harry would know, anyway. “My Eggsy,” he said in that same fond, patronizing tone. “We’re all so very, very proud of you, sweetling. You put all of our expectations to shame, and we couldn’t be happier for it.”

“Should I go congratulate Roxy now?” he asked sourly, and immediately winced at his tone. It wasn’t that he was angry that they’d chosen her--she was, in all the ways, better than he was, objectively and subjectively. He didn’t resent her for topping him and, in truth, was ecstatic that he didn’t have to lose her friendship when she left the mansion. But Merlin’s talk lingered in his mind, and he felt disappointed in himself, ashamed of how superficial his actions were. How childish. 

He wasn’t ready to be an agent, he realized, no matter how good he was with a gun.

“Darling--” Harry started to say, but Eggsy cut him off.

“‘M sorry,” he said quickly, tossing the covers back and rolling over so that he could wrap his arms around Harry’s waist and snuggle into his lap. “I din’t mean to sound like a brat. I’m ‘appy for Rox, I am. She deserves ter be ‘ere,” he clarified.

“What’s wrong, love?” Harry asked, pushing his head back to make eye contact. Eggsy looked away.

“I really, really want it, you know? I want ter be an agent so badly, want ter be wiv you and Arthur, and Gawain and all of yous up on that Table,” he sighed. “But that last test… I overreacted. I was stupid and immature. I hurt you, and--God--I told Arthur I’d never forgive him.”

“Oh, _Eggsy_ ,” Harry said with a fond tone. He hitched Eggsy up closer and pressed a kiss to his forehead then tipped Eggsy’s chin up to force him to look into his eyes. “We wouldn’t hold that against you, darling. How can we fault you for being so caring and unfailingly protective? It’s one of your best attributes, and we wouldn’t change it for the world.”

“It’s _stupid_ is wot it is,” he argued, pushing back and sitting up to make his point. “‘Ow can you trust me when I _clearly_ demonstrated I couldn’t trust Arthur? ‘Ow do you know I wouldn’t do the same on a mission when lives are at stake?” 

How the fuck would he trust himself? 

Angrily, he clenched his fist. “It only proves that I’m not ready to be a knight. Maybe this is all I should ever be, a fuckin’ hole to fuck into for stress relief!”

The hand that grabbed his jaw and slammed him into the bed was such a huge surprise that Eggsy could do no more than gasp and flail against Harry’s grip. The agent’s eyes flashed with anger the likes Eggsy had only ever seen once before and never wanted to see again.

A deadly silence swept about them, and Eggsy wanted to crawl to his knees and ask for forgiveness.

“I will say this once. Only once, Gary Unwin, and you will listen well,” Harry whispered into the space between them. His breath washed over Eggsy’s face, but it was his voice that sent a dark shiver running down his spine. “You have never once been and never will be a _hole_ to be used for fucking _stress relief_. The man who put that idea in your head has paid very dearly for doing so and so will anyone else who tries to tell you the same, be it by my hand or the hand of any other fucking knight in this organization. None of us will cease to defend any part of you, including your honor and virtue, because you are a fucking _godsend_ , Eggsy, to me, to all of us, and the only thing I truly want to do for the rest of my life is to thank you for it by making you happy. 

“ _You_ are my purpose in life, Eggsy, and you will remember that.”

His hand withdrew, leaving five points of pain on either side of Eggsy’s jaw and allowing the boy to swallow down the lump in his throat.

Harry sat back up, but Eggsy stayed exactly where he was. “Despite what you think, you passed that test,” he told Eggsy which stunned the boy.

He failed on both of Merlin’s accounts, hadn’t he? I mean… He shot JB, but he hadn’t satisfied the purpose of the test: to demonstrate trust and a lack of sentimentality.

“None of you were in any real danger,” Harry started to explain. “Amelia never died. She’s fine. She works in our tech department in Berlin. The parachute? The train? The bullet? Limits must be tested. However--” Harry took his hand. “--A Kingsman only condones the risking of a life to save another. Your concern for others is your best asset, my love, and everyone knows it. 

He kissed Eggsy deeply, and added, “The Table is reconvening in two days’ time to discuss adding a place for you.”

“Wot?” Eggsy whispered in disbelief and awe.

Harry smiled and kissed his jaw in what felt like an apology for the marks he put there. “It was Tristan who proposed it,” he informed him. “They want you there as much as I do.” Eggsy’s eyes slid shut to hide the tears that were threatening to fall.

“Fuck,” he whispered.

“You should go thank him,” Harry suggested, his voice suddenly low for all the right reasons, and despite the roller coaster of goddamned emotions, Eggsy’s body didn’t care. It was wired to respond to that tone of voice in exactly one way. “I’m headed to Kentucky tonight, but I’m sure I’ll enjoy watching his feed when I return.” Eggsy drew him in for a slow, sensual kiss.

“Any special requests?” he asked sultrily through wet, blurry eyes.

“I’ll let Hugh know.”

……………

Putting the bullet between Valentine’s eyes was made only more sweeter when they found Harry alive in a jam-packed, chaotic Kentucky hospital--barely even that, but alive nonetheless. Valentine’s bullet had met the bulletproof glass of his glasses and careened into the much less bulletproof frames before carving a deep gouge along the left side of Harry’s face, splintering parts of his skull and causing a traumatic brain injury that was further aggravated by his head-first fall into the pavement.

He’d been mistakenly brought to the morgue along with all the other church victims that day, but before any actual autopsies could begin, Valentine happened and the morticians had left Harry and the corpses to find living humans to kill.

Gareth, Bedivere, and Lamorak had perished during V-Day, and Eggsy had been given Gareth’s mantle before he was sent off, along with every other agent, to secure the leadership the world’s most powerful countries and to eliminate threats to usurp the power for evil. 

Six weeks into a deep op in Iraq, ten since V-Day, Eggsy’s world turned itself the right side up once more.

“Hello, darling.”

His heart froze in the cage of his chest and threatened to burst out of his throat. He checked his glasses feed, pulled them off and put them back on again, and then he breathed, “ _Harry_.”

A warm, familiar chuckle. “Indeed. I’m so proud of you, darling. Look at you.”

“ _Harry_ ,” Eggsy repeated, still breathy, still breathless, still in disbelief and astonishment and goddamned _relief_ because this was like training all over again except _worse_ because he thought Valentine had killed Harry, he _saw_ Valentine kill Harry. “Harry, _oh my god_ , you’re awake!” he exclaimed happily just before his voice cracked into a sob, and he ducked into the nearest alley and muffled his whimpers with his hand.

“Shhh…” Harry hushed in his ear like he always did. It only made Eggsy sob harder. “Shhh, my darling, it’s okay. It’s okay, I’m right here. I’m right here, and I’ll be right here when you return.”

“Harry. God. I just--” 

Eggsy broke out in surprised, delirious laughter. 

“Yer such a fuckin’ _arsehole_! Jesus! You couldn’t ‘ave waited three more days ‘til I was done ‘ere, you arse!” Eggsy wailed in delirious laughter and broken sobs. “Fuck you. ‘Ow ‘m I supposed ter finish this now?”

“Easily, darling, and then you’ll be back on the plane and in my arms in no time,” Harry answered easily.

Eggsy ran his hands over his suit, checking his weapons cache, and checked the bag he was carrying on his way to his surveillance post for the day where he was to observe the meeting between two heads of terrorist organizations that were seeking to form an alliance that could provide disastrous for world security. 

‘Easily,’ right. 

Fuck ‘easily’; he was getting this done _now_.

“Tell Merlin to have the plane ready by seventeen hundred.”

He was home by twenty-one and skidding right into Harry’s usual ward straight from the tarmac.

Harry, who was sitting up with a book in his lap with half his face obscured by a bandage and looking even more gorgeous than Eggsy remembered, glanced up and gave him a warm smile. One hand extended towards Eggsy, palm up, in an invitation forward, so Eggsy grabbed it and sank to his knees at his bedside.

“ _Harry_ ,” he repeated once more, pressing Harry’s hand to his face and staining it with tears.

“Oh, my boy,” Harry murmured fondly, stroking his hair with his other hand. “My _very_ good boy. I’ve missed you so.”

“You were _dead_ , Harry. I _saw_ it. You couldn’t possibly have missed me more than I missed you,” Eggsy answered, ignoring his hitching breaths and half-sobs. Harry’s hands on his face and in his hair were possibly the greatest things ever.

“I’m sorry you had to see it, lovely,” Harry crooned. “But you were _wonderful_ in that bunker, saving the world. I couldn’t have been _prouder_ of you. Oh, darling, come here.” Harry tugged, and Eggsy went, careful not to jostle him, and settled his head on Harry’s chest, hiding his face in the soft red robe. “You’re absolutely perfect, marvellously divine, and I simply cannot _fathom_ what I may have done to deserve you, my darling, _darling_ boy.” 

And with those words and in the secure warmth of Harry’s arms, all the built up pain and frustration and fear and melancholia over the past ten weeks was let out in a single moment in time.

……………

He heard the characteristic rapid fire taps of polished Oxfords against the wooden herringbone floors long before he saw the person who owned them, and though the pace did not change in the slightest, suddenly Percival was walking alongside him, having come from behind.

“Alastair,” Harry greeted warmly, matching Percival’s pace step for step.

“Harry,” the other man greeted in the same tone with an accompanying nod. That he was headed in the direction Harry was was telling in that there weren’t many agent rooms to be found in the northeast corner of the second floor. In fact, there was just one. Which begged the question, why was he heading there?

Percival answered Harry’s look with a smile. “Lancelot sent out a group message. Kay, Bors, Gawain, and Bedivere are still on missions, and Arthur won’t be able to make it. Geraint and Tristan declined. Caradoc is on his way. Lamorak is already there, and Merlin’s filming it.”

Harry blinked. “Filming what?” he asked and Percival laughed.

“Maybe if you check your messages once in a while, you’d know,” was his cryptic answer, and Harry would have then and there, just to find out what in the _world_ Percival was going on about, but they’ve arrived at Eggsy’s door and entered without much ado.

And, _oh_.

All the windows were open to let in the unnaturally bright and airy afternoon and making the drapes flutter in the breeze. Lamorak tipped her head at them in greeting where she sat in an elegant sprawl on one of Eggsy’s settees, a light flush decorating her cheeks and a glass of whiskey in one hand for no true knight could resist the call of a Macallan.

But more importantly, on the cloud-like duvet and among the mounds of pillows, Eggsy was strung up to the canopy by his wrists, his face buried in a bicep, his knees spread wide, and his cock trapped in flimsy pink lace with its head peeking out over the waistband.

“Oh,” Harry repeated out loud, and Lancelot gave a laugh over Eggsy’s shoulder where she seemed to be thrusting into him from behind. A strap-on, then. “Oh, I see,” he murmured in continued astonishment. This time, it was Eggsy who chuckled and peeked at his from around his arm. A dark blush covered his cheeks and nose, but his smile was bright and his eyes glassy.

“Din’t check your messages again, did you?” he teased. Harry ignored him and walked forward, almost in a trance because Eggsy absolutely _magnificent_ like this even with a massive bruise decorating his ribs. “Coulda missed all of this,” his boy murmured before Roxy gave a particularly hard thrust with absolute _delight_ in her eyes. Eggsy’s mouth fell open and his eyes fell shut, and Harry swooped in to kiss the vacancy and possess his moans.

“You look like an absolute _tart_ ,” Harry thought to inform him, fingering his cock through the panties and making him moan some more. To Roxy, he asked, “Yours?”

“Thought I’d buy some more if he liked them,” she said.

Harry lifted an eyebrow and asked Eggsy, “Do you, darling?”

Eggsy swore when Roxy pounded into him, deliberately turning his words into moans. “Keira and I think he looks very pretty in them,” she answered on his behalf.

“ _Very_ pretty,” Lamorak agreed.

“We were considering corsetry next,” Roxy added, ignoring Eggsy’s moans and generating some more. She reached around him with one hand and pinched at his right nipple, making him jerk forward and nearly into Harry before the rope sprung him back. 

Harry took a moment to appreciate the visual of Eggsy in lingerie. “You’ll have to wait till this heals up, of course,” he said. She didn’t have to look to know that he was talking about the bruise Eggsy had sustained in Panama. “But maybe a leather underbust corset with steel boning? Standard, of course. Tightlaced.”

“Garters and stockings?” Roxy suggested.

Harry nodded approvingly. “Of course.” To Lamorak, he called out, “What colors, would you say, Keira darling?”

“Green and gold, for his hair and eyes,” was her instant answer, and Harry nodded approvingly once more. He tipped Eggsy’s chin up where it had lolled to his chest and pressed a kiss to his mouth until he was responsive and, hopefully, intelligible.

“Would you like that, sweetling? Would you want to look all pretty and dolled up for me?” he asked. Eggsy moaned in agreement and swayed forward for another kiss, but Harry kept himself just out of reach. “Words, lovely,” he commanded.

“ _Yes_ , Harry. _Please_.”

“Mmm,” Harry responded and pressed a kissed to his temple. He ignored the loud whine of protest that quickly turned into a choked off moan as he turned away and fixed himself a drink from the bar. He found a seat beside Lamorak and settled in before lifting a hand to his glasses.

There, at the top of the list of his unread messages, was an image file from Roxy.


End file.
